Josepha Sherman - Prince of the Sidhe 01 - The Shattered Oath

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Contents
CHAPTER 1
Tom Spots a Card Shark 3
CHAPTER 2
Tom at the Throttle 21
CHAPTER 3
Off on the Wrong Foot 37
CHAPTER 4
Tom's First Day at the Academy 53
CHAPTER 5
From Bad to Worse 66
CHAPTER 6
The Academy Candy Store 84
CHAPTER 7
Goodness Doesn't Pay 101
CHAPTER 8
The Men tal Marvel 112
CHAPTER 9
Mystery of the Missing Mattress 130
CHAPTER 10
Basketball and the Bishop 148
The Great Brain
at the Academy
CHAPTER ONE
Tom Spots a Card Shark
WHEN MY BROTHER TOM began telling people
in Adenville, Utah, that he had a great brain everybody
laughed at him, including his own family. We all thought
he was trying to play some kind of a kid's joke on us. But
after he had used his great brain to swindle all the kids in
town and make fools of a lot of grownups nobody laughed
at my brother anymore.
I think that was why just about everybody in town
except his own family was glad to see Tom leave Adenville
on September 1, 1897. And I couldn't help thinking that
Papa must have felt kind of relieved too, although he
didn't show it. Papa was editor and publisher of the Aden-
ville Weekly Advocate and was considered one of the
smartest men in town. But some of the shenanigans Tom
had pulled with his great brain were enough to make Papa
feel like a blooming idiot. Now he wouldn't have to worry
about men dropping into his office to complain that Tom
had swindled their sons. Mamma cried a lot at the depot
but she also must have felt at least a little relief. She
wouldn't have to worry for the next nine months about
mothers telephoning her to complain about Tom. The
truth of the matter, though, was that although Tom had
been a junior-grade confidence man since he was eight
years old, he had never realty cheated anybody. With his
great brain he simply devised schemes that made people
swindle themselves.
Tom and my eldest brother Sweyn were bound for the
Catholic Academy for Boys in Salt Lake City. We only
had a one-room schoolhouse in Adenville, where Mr.
Standish taught the first through the sixth grades. Any
parents wanting their kids to get a higher education had to
send them to Salt Lake City. Tom was only eleven going
on twelve but so smart that Mr. Standish had let him skip
the fifth grade. Sweyn was two years older and going back
to the academy for his second year. A stranger who saw us
three brothers together would never have guessed we were
related. Sweyn looked like our Danish-American mother,
with blond hair and a light complexion. I had dark unruly
hair and dark eyes, just like Papa- Tom didn't look like
either Mamma or Papa unless you sort of put them to-
gether, and he was the only one in the family who had
freckles.
Tom promised to write to me every week. The first
letter I received told me how he had spotted a card shark
on the train. I didn't find out all the details, though, until
my brothers came home for Christmas vacation. Then I got
Sweyn to tell me what had happened and later Tom told
me what had happened. But there was something wrong.
Sweyn didn't mention several things Tom told me. And
Tom d;dn't mention his invention for trains which Sweyn
told me all about. That is why I figure the only way to tell
what really happened is to put their stories together and
tell it in my own way.
Tom admitted he felt down in the dumps as the train
pulled out of Adenvilie. I couldn't blame him. It was the
first time he had ever been away from home- I knew when
I became old enough to go to the academy that I would
probably bawl like a baby.
"Go ahead and cry," Sweyn said as the train left the
depot. *Tt is nothing to be ashamed about. I know I did
last year my first time away from home."
Tom sure wanted to cry but he'wasn't going to give
Sweyn the satisfaction of knowing it. "Maybe I don't feel
like crying," he lied.
"Pardon me," Sweyn said sarcastically. "I just thought
being separated from Mom and Dad and our kid brother
for the first time might make you feel sad. Well, I know
something that will make you cry. You won't be able to
swindle the kids at the academy and get away with shenan-
igans like you pulled in Adenville. Those Jesuit priests are
strict."
Sweyn's superior big-brother attitude was beginning
to get on Tom's nerves. "You are just jealous of my great
brain," he said. "It is warm in here. I'm going to open a
window."
"You do and you'll get a cinder in your eye," Sweyn
said.
That was enough to make Tom open the window
even if he got ten cinders in his eyes. He had never let
Sweyn boss him around at home and he wasn't about to
start now. Sure enough, he got a cinder in his eye. He
pulled his head inside quickly and shut the window.
"What did I tell you?" Sweyn said.
"Take the corner of your handkerchief and get it
out," Tom said.
"Say please," Sweyn said, smiling and pretending he
enjoyed seeing Tom suffer.
"Never mind," Tom said. "I'll go to the washroom
and get it out myself."
"I was just joking," Sweyn said, taking out his hand-
kerchief.
He got the cinder out of Tom's eye just as the con-
ductor came into the coach. The conductor was a big
ruddy-faced man wearing the traditional blue uniform
and cap with a big gold watch chain across his vest. When
he came to them he took their tickets and placed two blue
stubs under the metal tabs on the seats. Then he looked at
Tom's red eye-
"I see it didn't take you long to learn not to open a
window on a train, sonny," he said.
Being called "sonny" always made Tom angry. "My
name is Tom Fitzgerald, not sonny," he said. "And I
can't help wondering why they don't put screens on coach
windows so passengers won't get cinders in their eyes."
"Well now, Tom Fitzgerald." the conductor said, "it
just so happens that on the newer coaches on the main line
we do have screens on the windows. But you still can't
open a window when the train is moving."
"Why not?" Tom asked.
"Smoke from the locomotive would get into the pas-
senger cars," the conductor said.
"They could fix it so all windows could be opened
without any cinders or smoke getting into the passenger
cars," Tom said, although he didn't have the least idea of
exactly how it could be done.
"And just how would they do that?" the conductor
aaked. "I'm sure the president of this railroad and of every
other railroad would be delighted to know."
Tom didn't miss seeing the conductor wink at the
other passengers. He tapped his index finger to his tem-
ple. "I'll put my great brain to work on it," he said, "and
let you know when you finish collecting tickets."
"I'll be back," the conductor said. "I wouldn't miss
hearing this for the world."
All the passengers in the coach except Sweyn began to
laugh. Sweyn felt so embarrassed that he slid way down in
his seat. "You have only been on this train for about ten
minutes," he said, "and you've already made us the laugh-
ing stock of everybody in this coach."
"They won't be laughing very long," Tom said, con-
fident that his great brain would not let him down.
"You must be plumb loco," Sweyn said with disgust.
"They have engineers with years of experience designing
trains. If there was any way to open windows without get-
ting cinders and smoke into the passenger cars they would
have invented it."
Do you think that made Tom give up? Heck no.
"The men who built Conestoga wagons and prairie
schooners never thought of putting brakes on them," he
said. "Thousands of emigrants who came West had to
chain their rear wheels when going down a grade. Then
one day one of them got tired of chaining his wheels. He
used a shovel handle, a couple of two-by-fours to <nake a
lever, a wooden block, a piece of rope, and the sole of one
of his old shoes and made a brake for his wagon. Now
please be quiet while I put my great brain to work."
Tom's great brain must have been working like sixty
because when the conductor returned he was ready.
"Here I am, Tom Fitzgerald," the conductor said
with a smile on his ruddy face. "Now tell me how we can
open windows on trains without getting cinders or smoke
in the cars."
Tom wasn't about to divulge his plan for nothing.
When he put his great brain to work he expected to be
paid for it.
"I'll expect some financial reward if the railroad uses
my idea," he said.
"Naturally," the conductor said. "And you have all
these passengers as witnesses that it was your idea."
"They could run a pipe from the smokestack on the
locomotive along the top of the train to the caboose,"
Tom said, "and let all the cinders and smoke out behind
the train."
"I'm afraid that wouldn't work," the conductor said.
"The pipe would break when the train went around a
curve."
"Not if they put flexible couplings on it between each
car," Tom said.
A salesman across the aisif began to laugh. "I
think the boy has you there, conductor," he said.
"No he hasn't," the conductor said. "With such a
long pipe the fire under the boiler in the locomotive
would go out."
This stumped Tom until he remembered a photo-
graph of a factory he had seen in a magazine. "I don't
think it would," he said, "because the longer the smoke-
stack the better it draws. That is why they put such high
chimneys on factories."
By this time Tom was so sure his idea would work
that he began to wonder how big a reward the railroad
would give him. The conductor must have guessed what
he was thinking.
"I'm afraid you will never collect that reward," he
said. "In order for a smokestack to work it has to be verti-
cal. Hot air is lighter than cold air. What creates a draft is
the hot air rising to the top. If you bent the smokestack
over horizontally the hot air would just rise to the bend
in the pipe and be trapped there. And as a result you
would have no draft and the fire in the firebox of the loco-
motive would go out."
No wonder Tom didn't mention anything about this
in his letter to me. And no wonder Sweyn chuckled when
he told me about it at Christmastime. It wasn't until I
confronted Tom with what Sweyn had said that I learned
the whole story. And it just goes to prove a fellow has to
listen to both sides of a story to learn the truth.
Tom admitted he was stunned that there was a
flaw in his idea that he felt as if the conductor had hit him
on the head with a baseball bat. And even worse was the
shock to his money-loving heart. And boy, oh, boy, was
he embarrassed as the conductor and all the passengers
except Sweyn began laughing at him. Papa had often said
that when a fellow starts out trying to make a fool of
somebody else he usually ends up making a foot of him-
self. And that is exactly what happened to Tom. But
there was one thing Papa and Mamma had drilled into us
boys and that was always to face up to our problems.
"I deserve to be laughed at," Tom said to the conduc-
tor. "I tried to make a fool out of you and ended up being
the fool."
"Don't take it so hard, Tom," the conductor said
sympathetically. "Some of our greatest inventors were
laughed at. You just keep on using that great brain of
yours and someday you will invent something that will
improve trains."
"In that case," he said, "I've got to iearn all about
trains by the time we get to Salt Lake City. Can I come
with you?"
"Come along," the conductor said, smiling.
When they got to the caboose the conductor intro-
duced himself as Harold Walters and the brakeman as
Paul Jackson.
"Why. do you ride in the caboose instead of in the
coach?" Tom asked.
"This is what we call a feeder line," Mr. Walters said.
"On feeder lines we don't have a train that is strictly for
passengers like we do on the main line. This train, for ex-
ample, has a mail-and-baggage car, a freight car, and some-
times a car for livestock in addition to a smoking car and
a coach car. And because the train is what you could call
11
part of a freight train we have a caboose like they do on all
freight trains. On the main-line passenger trains the con-
ductor and brakeman have a seat reserved for them on
one of the coaches."
Tom remained with Mr. Walters for almost three
hours, going with the conductor to the coach and smoking
cars to collect tickets at each stop. Then he returned to his
seat.
"Weil," Sweyn said, "did my little brother learn all
about choo-choo trains?"
Tom figured this was as good a time as any to put an
end to this big-brother act of Sweyn's. And he knew the
hardest blow of all would be in the pocketbook.
"I guess you know a lot more about trains than I do,"
he said.
"Why shouldn't I?" Sweyn asked in that superior
way of older brothers. "I have already made two trips to
Salt Lake City and back."
"You sure have," Tom said, "and I figure for every
mile I've ridden on a train you must have traveled at least
twenty. Right?"
"Right," Sweyn said.
"That means you know twenty times more about
trains than I do," Tom said. "Right?"
"Yeah," Sweyn answered.
"Then put your money where your mouth is," Tom
said. "I'll bet you a quarter that I can ask you two ques-
tions about trains that you can't answer. If you answer,
both of them you win. If you only answer one of them it
is a tie and the bet is off."
"Get your quarter ready." Sweyn said confidently,
12
"and go ahead and ask your two questions."
"Who is the big boss on a train, the conductor or the
engineer?" Tom asked.
"That is easy," Sweyn said. "The engineer is."
"One wrong," Tom said. "And you can ask Mr. Wal-
ters the conductor if you don't believe me. Now for the
second question. What were conductors on trains called
before they were called conductors?"
"What kind of a question is that?" Sweyn asked.
"It is about trains, isn't it?" Tom asked, smiling. "I
can see you don't know the answer so I will tell you- They
were called captains because they had full command of a
train just like the captain of a ship. Now fork over that
quarter."
Poor old Sweyn was as foolish for making that bet as a
rooster trying to lay an egg. I don't remember my eldest
brother or me ever winning a bet from Tom. Sweyn
handed Tom twenty-five cents.
When the train arrived in Cedar City a man wearing
a white cap and jacket boarded the train and went into
the smoking car. As the train left the depot he came into
the coach. In front of him he had a box-type tray held by a
strap around his neck.
"Candy, peanuts, chewing gum, and magazines'" he
called out.
Tom stared at the man as a passenger bought a candy
bar and a magazine. "Who is that?" he asked.
"The candy butcher," Sweyn answered. "And it just
goes to prove you don't know everything about trains."
"Why do they call him a butcher?" Tom asked.
"Butchers only work in meat markets."
13
"How should I know?" Sweyn said.
"Which just goes to prove you don't know everything
about trains," Tom said.
"One thing I do know," Sweyn said. "If you want any
candy you had better buy it now and eat it before we get
to Salt Lake City. The superintendent. Father Rodri-
guez, only allows each student to buy ten cents worth of
candy once every four weeks. And parents are forbidden
to mail any sweets to their sons or bring any candy on visit-
ing days."
The academy was beginning to sound like a reform
school to Tom. "What has he got against candy?" he asked.
"He says it is bad for the teeth and health," Sweyn
answered. "And if you have any candy when you get there
he will take it away from you."
"Don't worry about it," Tom said. "My great brain
will figure out a way for us to have all the candy we want."
"You get caught smuggling candy into the academy
and you'll get demerits and punishment," Sweyn said.
"And if you get twenty demerits in one month you can be
expelled."
"What kind of punishment?" Tom asked.
"Peeling potatoes in the kitchen, cleaning the wash-
rooms, mopping and waxing the floors, and things like
that," Sweyn answered.
"They've got to catch you first," Tom said confi-
dently. "I'm getting hungry. Let's eat."
They got down from the rack the shoe box containing
the lunch Mamma had made for them. When Mamma
prepared a lunch she always made sure nobody went hun-
gry. There was enough for six people. Tom and Sweyn
14
ate their fill. There were still five pieces of fried chicken,
four hard-boiled eggs, five bread-and-butter sandwiches,
and three pieces of chocolate cake left.
The traveling salesman across the aisle spoke to Tom.
"The train doesn't stop for passengers to eat until we get
to Provo," he said. "I'll give you a dime for one of those
drumsticks and a bread-and-butter sandwich."
"How about a hard-boiled egg and a piece of cake
too?" Tom asked. The smell of money to him was just like
the smell of food to a hungry man. "It will only cost you
another dime."
"Sold," the salesman said.
Sweyn was shaking his head as Tom pocketed the
twenty cents. "You can't even ride on a train without turn-
ing conniver," he said. "Mom would have a fit if she knew
what you just did."
"The customer is perfectly satisfied," Tom said. "And
that gives me an idea. There must be other hungry passen-
gers on this train. I'm going to sell the rest of this stuff."
"You can't do that," Sweyn protested. "Only the candy
butcher can sell things on a train."
Did this make Tom give up his idea? Heck no. When
it came to money he was like a bloodhound on the trail of
a fugitive.
"Then I'll make a deal with the candy butcher," he
said.
Tom found the candy butcher sitting on the rear seat
in the smoking car. "Let me sell this food on the train," he
said, "and I'll buy candy with all the money I get. Is it a
deal?"
"It sure is," the candy butcher said. "See those four
15
men playing poker on a suitcase at the other end of the
car? They were complaining because I don't sell sand-
wiches like they do on the main line. Try them."
Tom walked to the other end of the smoking car.
"The candy butcher told me you men were hungry," he
said. "A piece of home-fried chicken and a bread-and-
butter sandwich will cost you a dime- The hard-boiled
eggs are a nickel and the cake ten cents."
Tom collected seventy-five cents from the hungry
poker players and then stood watching the game- The men
were playing stud poker. A man the other players called
Mr. Harrison was winning and a man named Baylor who
looked like a rancher was the big loser. The other two
players were complaining about losing also. Tom watched
while four hands were played and he knew why Mr. Harri-
son was winning. He decided to tell Mr. Walters about it.
He stopped and gave the candy butcher the seventy-five
cents, saying he would get the candy later. He found Mr.
Walters in the caboose with the brakeman.
"Is it part of your job to watch out for card sharks?"
he asked.
"It certainly is, Tom," the conductor said. "You see,
whenever a passenger loses money to a card shark on a
train he never blames the card shark or himself. He always
blames the railroad. Why do you ask?"
"Those four men playing poker in the smoking car
are using a marked deck of cards," Tom answered.
Mr. Walters looked as surprised as a man who opens
a can of beans and finds peas inside instead. "You must
be mistaken," he said. "I inspected that deck of cards be-
fore the men started to play, and my years of experience
16
as a conductor have taught me just about every way a deck
can be marked."
"These cards are marked at the factory," Tom said.
"My uncle. Mark Trainor. is the marshal and deputy sher-
iff in Adenville and he showed me a deck just like it. A
salesman selling playing cards came to town. He offered
both saloonkeepers such a good price that they each
bought fifty decks of cards. A week later a man calling
himself Harry Johnson came to town and began playing
poker in both saloons. He won so much money that the
players said he was either the luckiest poker player in the
world or a caid cheat. But nobody could prove he was
cheating and he kept on winning money every night. Un-
cle Mark knew nobody could be that lucky. He got a deck
of the cards from a saloonkeeper and took it to his office.
He studied it for hours before he discovered how they
were marked at the factory. He arrested Harry Johnson,
who confessed he and the card salesman were partners."
Mr, Walters nodded his head. "That was a slick confi-
dence game," he said. "The salesman got the cards into the
saloons and then his partner came along and, using the
marked cards, had to win. I didn't like the looks of that
Harrison fellow with his manicured nails and waxed
moustache. They are his cards."
They went to the smoking car and waited until the
poker players finished playing a hand. Mr. Harrison won
again. Then Mr. Walters picked up the deck of cards.
"What is the idea?" Mr. Harrison asked. "You
checked these cards and so did these three gentlemen
before we started to play."
"Then you won't mind if my friend here takes a look
17
at them/' Mr. Walters said, handing the deck to Tom.
"That's the kid who sold us the food," Mr. Harrison
摘要：

ContentsCHAPTER1TomSpotsaCardShark3CHAPTER2TomattheThrottle21CHAPTER3OffontheWrongFoot37CHAPTER4Tom'sFirstDayattheAcademy53CHAPTER5FromBadtoWorse66CHAPTER6TheAcademyCandyStore84CHAPTER7GoodnessDoesn'tPay101CHAPTER8TheMentalMarvel112CHAPTER9MysteryoftheMissingMattress130CHAPTER10BasketballandtheBisho...

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